


As the Snow Falls

by sheriffandsteel



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gendrya - Freeform, Romance, arya stark deserves a happy fucking ending, post 8x03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 02:34:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18714754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheriffandsteel/pseuds/sheriffandsteel
Summary: "Meet me in the godswood at dusk." are the only instructions she gives them.





	As the Snow Falls

The war council meeting had started with the dawn and Arya forced back a yawn as the sun began to make its descent across the sky. At this rate they weren’t going to leave until the sun had long gone down. The meetings had lasted hours when they were preparing to fight the Night King and his army of the dead yet somehow when they were planning on taking down Cersei Lannister the meetings lasted even longer. 

They had been here all day, not even leaving for meals. Instead they had servants bring the food up to them at midday. Arya was growing restless; she could only stand to listen to the same thing be repeated so many times. She felt as though everything they had discussed in this meeting had already been said before. She knew that they were finalizing plans but at this point she felt like if anyone in this room still didn’t understand the plans they were too stupid to be in the room at all. 

Truthfully, she was not surprised that the meeting was going longer than usual she just didn’t like it. Tonight was most of their last night in Winterfell. In the morning they would march south for King’s Landing to take the throne for Daenerys and for the North. 

When the Dragon Queen had told Arya that she could have whatever she wanted as a thank you for killing the Night King and saving them all she really should not have asked her in the Great Hall while it was full of people. 

Arya didn’t know Daenerys very well but she could still see the tension in her jaw when Arya had immediately responded to her offer, “Independence for the North.” She had heard Jon’s sigh even from across the table and Sansa only just managed to bite her smile back in time. Daenerys looked ready to fight her, tired as she was, but the Northerners closest Arya had heard her and taken up the cry. 

No, Daenerys really should have asked her that question when they were alone. 

Arya had just killed the leader of an undead army; she would never understand why people always insisted on underestimating her. 

After much deliberation (this time behind closed doors) Daenerys finally begrudgingly agreed. When she took the throne the North would not have to bend the knee to her. They would still go down south and fight for her and they would form an alliance to work together on matters after that but they would not be part of her kingdom. They would not be her subjects. If Daenerys was upset about losing part of her kingdom before she even sat on the throne it was overshadowed by the man she lost on the battlefield. After the battle her eyes were red rimmed for days. 

Once she finally agreed to let the North be independent Daenerys had looked at Arya with exhausted eyes; eyes that were tired of fighting and knew that there was still a lot of fighting left to do. “I suppose you want Jon Snow back on the throne here?” she had asked coldly, stilling everyone who was readying to leave the council chambers. 

Arya had been thinking about this a long time, she knew they would wear Daenerys down to get the North independent, and she had several ideas as to who should run it. With a war still left to fight she didn’t see the point in painting targets on anyone’s backs just yet. “Let’s see who survives King’s Landing before we make that choice.” 

It was the only thing she said in the war council room that no one argued with. 

Even with the North getting its independence back after hundreds of years there was still a lot for them to do. They had to rebuild most of Winterfell after all. First of course they had to sort the bodies of their dead from the wights, making lists of those who had given their lives so that others could survive. The North would remember them. Always. 

More than just recovering from the battle with the dead they also had another war to ready themselves for. They had battle plans to make for King’s Landing and had to plan the marches south. Two troops had already left earlier that week, they were smaller in size and were hoping to make their way around King’s Landing so that they could pinch Cersei in on both sides. 

They had sent ravens to no one but the Northern houses not in attendance and the Iron Islands that they had survived the battle. It had been Sansa’s idea, ravens could be intercepted, and the last thing they wanted was to give Cersei warning of what was coming for her. Lord Varys had protested that the Iron Islands had declared for Queen Cersei but Sansa coolly reminded him that Theon’s sister Yara had gone to take them back for Daenerys. She deserved to know they had won the war and more than that she deserved to know of her little brother’s fate. 

This gave them more time to recover as well, to rebuild their weapons and armor. With the loss of life they had sustained in the battle they were in plenty supply of steel. The blacksmiths were even melting down the white walkers’ weapons, making them into more armor that would help save lives instead of take them. 

Arya was part of the group marching south in the morning so she knew the plans being discussed where important to her but she was far past ready for the meeting to be over. It wasn’t just that she had been standing there for hours listening to the same plans told over and over again only slightly reworded, she also had somewhere to be that evening. Finally, when the sun was already beginning to set Daenerys stood, resting her hands on the table. She might not be Arya’s queen but she couldn’t help but admire the woman as she looked at them. There was no doubt she was a Targaryen with the fire that burned in her gaze as she spoke. 

“Go rest, tomorrow we march for King’s Landing. As of tomorrow, Cersei’s days are numbered.” 

To their credit, no one in the council chambers cheered like the Northerners had done in days past when the troops left. Arya had to bite back a smile at the thought of Needle entering Cersei’s throat but she shook the thought from her head as Sansa moved to grab the handles of Bran’s chair. 

Her sister no longer flinched when Arya suddenly appeared behind her, having grown used to Arya’s soundless steps. 

“Meet me in the godswood at dusk.” Arya whispered hoping they couldn’t hear the breathlessness in her voice. She avoided Bran’s knowing gaze and instead met Sansa’s eyes when she turned back from the lone window in the room. Only the top of the sun could be seen above the outer wall. 

“So, meet you there now.” Sansa dead panned; exhaustion evident in her voice. She would be staying with Bran in Winterfell while the troops marched south. They had to rebuild most of the castle and should they lose in King’s Landing they would have to defend it when Cersei’s forces came. 

The North would never again bend the knee, no matter what the cost. 

Arya rolled her eyes at her sister’s petulance. “Just go there.” 

She turned before Sansa had the chance to reply and grabbed Brienne’s arm as the knight walked past her. She looked down at her curiously. 

“Meet me in the godswood now.” Arya decided to heed Sansa’s words; it would dark by the time people reached the weirwood anyway. 

She saw Davos eye her as he walked past them. He had already been asked to go the godswood that morning, Arya had spent much of the day nervous that he would let something slip during the meeting. She had forgotten in her worries that he used to be a smuggler, the man knew how to keep his mouth shut. 

Brienne nodded, her expression curious as she headed out the door. Arya waited impatiently for Jon to be finished speaking with Daenerys and the moment he stepped away from her she appeared at his side. He no longer flinched either when she spoke in his ear, “Head to the godswood.” 

Arya didn’t spare him a look back as she walked past him and out the door. She had something to grab from her room before she went down herself and one more person to find. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was racing the setting sun. 

When she reached her rooms, she shed her cloak and let it fall to the floor in a heap. She had never been very good at keeping her room tidy and she was in a hurry now. Laid out on the foot of her bed was a plain dark gray cloak. Arya ran her fingers over the wool and drew in a shaky breath as she looked down at it. 

She had found the cloak in Robb’s old room the night before, shoved in between his bed and the wall. The rest of the cloaks and furs that had once belonged to her brothers were gone, either destroyed by Ramsey and his men or scattered out among the soldiers who didn’t have much to help them fend off the cold. 

Her fingers trembled slightly as she lifted the cloak from the bed, holding it up against her face for a moment and breathing deep against the wool. She wanted to believe that the cloak still smelled like her dear older brother but really it just smelled of dust and ash. Arya stared down at it, the gray the same color of her eyes, before pulling the cloak over her shoulders and fastening it with a shaky breath. 

Robb had been much taller than her so at least a foot of the cloak dragged past her on the ground. Arya didn’t mind as she pulled the cloak around her arms and let herself imagine for just one moment that the rough wool was her brother’s arms holding her tight. She wished desperately that Rickon and him, that their mother and father, would be joining them that night. 

Shaking such thoughts from her mind Arya headed for the door, the sun could no longer be seen over the wall and she still had to locate a man who did not seem to want to be found. Despite his best efforts to be alone Arya felt certain she knew where he was hiding. 

She had only seen him a few times since the battle ended, each time with a skin of wine in hand. They had yet to speak about what had happened between them in the castle or about the man that had given his life for theirs. She had a feeling that they would never discuss what happened during the battle, perhaps that was the best for both of them. 

Arya found him in the stables like she expected, sitting against one of the stalls with a wine skin held loosely in his hand. 

He glared up at her as she approached, the scars on his face hidden in shadow. 

Arya skipped the pleasantries. Neither of them had ever had much use for them. “Go to the godswood.” 

The Hound snorted and lifted the skin to his lips. “Don’t take orders from you girl.” 

Arya resisted the urge to smack the skin from his hands. “Just fucking do it.” 

He raised his brows at the curse and opened his mouth to retort but Arya did not have time to stand here and find out whose tongue was sharper. She had somewhere to be and she would not be late because of him. She turned and headed for the door of the stables, over the sound of her cloak dragging across the straw she heard the Hound sigh long and heavy before his lumbering footsteps joined hers. 

They walked to the godswood together, although with him several feet behind her. Arya stopped at the entrance, resisting the urge to peek around the corner. He would be there, she knew it. 

The Hound stopped beside her and Arya motioned him forward, “Go ahead.” 

He looked down at her in confusion for a moment and Arya could see the moment his brain pieced everything together. “For fucks sake.” he growled but he only hesitated for a moment before walking past her. 

Dusk had fallen and the shadows grew longer as Arya shifted her feet impatiently. Perhaps she should look to see who was there, maybe her siblings had already gone in and she had been too late to beat them here. That was who Arya told herself she was looking for when she held her breath and peered around the corner. 

In between the trees she could make out the forms of Davos and a few faces she recognized from the forge. Some of the tension in her chest loosened at the sight of them. Beside them stood Ser Brienne, the wilding Tormund standing close by her and staring at her in awe like he often did in her presence. Arya snorted lightly at the sight of Brienne’s hand resting on her sword hilt. She could stab Tormund and he would likely thank her for it he was so enraptured by her. 

Her siblings were not there yet and Arya drew a breath of relief that she wouldn’t have to call out to them to come back out to her until she noticed that the person she needed to be there most was missing. A hot ball of something foreign to her filled her stomach and her throat suddenly ached worse than when the Night King had held her up by it. It took her longer than it should have to realize that she felt like she was going to cry. Where in the seven hells was he? 

“Looking for someone?” a soft voice whispered from behind her and it was only Arya’s training that kept her from jumping. 

He was making her go soft already, she hadn’t even heard him approach she was so lost in her thoughts of him. And this was not a man known for his quiet footsteps. 

Arya turned to see Gendry looking down at her, his blue eyes shining with amusement until they took in the long cloak on her shoulders. 

“That your brother’s?” he asked, reaching forward to touch the collar lightly. Arya nodded soundlessly, wondering how he knew that she hadn’t just grabbed the cloak from some taller stranger. She had gone so long being unknowable that she wondered if she would ever get used to someone knowing her so well. 

“Last chance to back out.” Gendry whispered, his voice only breaking on the last word. 

Arya was shaking her head before the words had even left his mouth. “Not a chance stupid.” 

Gendry’s gaze was intense as he looked down at her. “I’m serious Arya. I don’t want you to regret being with a low born bast-” 

“We’ve had this fight before.” Arya cut him off, her voice low like a wolf's growl. Her mother used to admonish her for speaking to people in that tone but it made the tension in Gendry’s shoulders lessen. “I don’t care about fancy titles or ranks. I just want you.” 

A slow smile broke across Gendry’s face and for a moment Arya wondered if he was just teasing her, if he had just wanted to see her get defensive for him like she had every night since they first lay together. He was so worried that she would wake up one morning and regret tying herself to a bastard blacksmith that she had finally had to yell at him that she’d wanted to be with him for years, it wasn’t likely going to change overnight. 

He stepped forward to place a feather light kiss on her forehead, blue eyes light as he looked down at her before whispering like a promise. “I’ll see you in there then.” 

Arya nodded, her heart speeding up as he walked past her. She only had a moment to collect herself before she caught sight of Sansa and Bran headed towards her, Jon and Ghost at their heels. 

“What are we doing here Arya?” Sansa asked curiously as she stopped beside her, peering past the entrance to the godswood and taking in the people milling about by the heart tree. 

“Making plans for the future.” Bran spoke before Arya got the chance to come up with an answer and she smiled softly at her little brother for it. His gaze was as unreadable as ever but he did nothing to stop her which Arya knew was the closest she was going to get to him being happy for her. The man before her wasn’t much of her little brother anymore despite the face he wore. “We should go inside.” 

Arya nodded and Sansa sighed in annoyance at being left out of the loop only once before she began to push Bran forward. She faltered, nearly tripping over her skirts, when Arya reached out to touch Jon’s arm and stop him from following. 

“Wait with me, won’t you?” Arya asked, a blush heating her cheeks at the shake in her voice. From the corner of her gaze she sees Sansa’s eyes go wide as she looked between the godswood and Arya and realization crossed her face. Bran simply smiled serenely as Sansa found her feet again and pushed them forward. Ghost followed after them with one last look back at Jon, his white fur blending in with the fresh snow around them. 

Jon looked down at her, his eyes taking in the strange cloak on her shoulders and she knows Bran’s words are mumbling around in his mind. She saw the moment everything clicked into place as his face paled and his gray eyes widen in surprise. 

“Who?” he finally asked, the confusion lacing his voice. 

“Gendry Waters.” Arya said his name breathlessly as her heart began to pound. She hadn’t considered that Jon might refuse to walk with her. It wouldn’t stop her if he did, she knew Bran or even Sansa would happily take his place. But Jon had always been her favorite, she wanted it to be him. 

“The blacksmith?” Jon asked, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline in surprise. “Arya, you’ve only known him a few weeks.” 

“No.” Arya shook her head as she admitted the truth, “I’ve known him for years.” 

Jon still looked ready to protest even as bewilderment made his brows knit together. Arya reached out to place her hand on his arm, squeezing it gently. “I promise you that one day I will tell you all about my journey here, and I hope that you will tell me yours.” Her gray eyes searched his, the one sibling with eyes like her own, as she implored him. “But today, right now, all I want is for my older brother to walk me to my groom.” 

His eyes sparkled when she said the word ‘brother’. He had told them all the truth of his parentage some days ago but Arya told him that if he ever tried to call himself her ‘cousin’ again he was going to find a knife to the throat. He was their brother; he always had been and he always would be. No amount of blood was going to change that. 

She could see the protests leave him and she felt the tension leave the muscles in his arm. He casted one long look into the godswood and she wondered what he could see in the fading light. 

“You’re sure?” he couldn’t seem to resist asking, though there was no fight left in his words. 

Arya’s voice seemed to fail her and she could only nod. Jon looked down at her for a lengthy moment, eyes traveling over the gray cloak on her shoulders to her gray eyes. The nod seemed to be enough for Jon. He said nothing as he stepped forward and drew her into his arms, she wrapped her arms around him as he pressed a light kiss to her hair. 

When they pulled apart Jon took her hand and rested it in the crook of his elbow. He smiled down at her and she could see the wetness in his eyes before they stepped forward together past the gate and into sight of the weirwood, it’s red leaves bright like blood against the snowy backdrop. 

As they walked a light snow began to fall on them and Arya’s eyes drifted over everyone gathered there, brought together for them. She caught the painful smile on Sansa’s face and she hoped that the memory of her sister marrying someone she loved in this spot would help ease the memory of her own wedding to a monster. 

Arya’s eyes darted over everyone to rest on Gendry who stood before the weirwood tree, his eyes never leaving hers. She felt the weight of them like a tether, pulling her forward, calling her home. The different roads that took them here to this moment feel both endless and miniscule at the same time. 

As Jon and her neared the weirwood Ser Davos cleared his throat before stepping forward behind Gendry. His steady voice seemed to echo through the snowy landscape as he spoke, “Who comes before the old gods this night?” 

For the briefest of moments, she feared that Jon wouldn’t do it, that he would back out at the last second. But as always, he came through for her. “Arya of House Stark, comes here to be wed.” Her brother’s voice was calm as he spoke but his hand that rested on top of hers squeezed hers tightly at the word ‘wed’. She wished she could interrupt this part to whisper to him that even with her wed he would still always hold root in her heart. “A woman true born, and noble. She comes here to claim the blessings of the old gods. Who comes here to claim her?” 

Gendry stepped forward, snow dusting his hair as he stepped out from the shelter of the weirwood’s branches. Arya couldn’t help but hold her breath as he approached them. 

“Gendry Waters. A bastard and a blacksmith.” His gaze didn’t falter on her as he said the words, likely the first bastard to be married beneath this particular weirwood tree. While most grooms would list their houses and what they were an heir to Gendry wanted to claim his profession. It was his dragonglass creations that helped to defeat the white walkers after all. Arya was happy he had decided not to mention his dead father; Gendry had never met the man and he felt no love towards him. He didn’t want his name brought up in their wedding ceremony. 

“Who comes to give her?” Gendry continued the words, his eyes never leaving Arya even as he addressed Jon. 

“Jon Snow, who is her brother.” Arya let out a little breath of relief, she had been worried Jon would decide to use his Targaryen name or call himself her cousin. She didn’t think the old gods would mind him using the name he had held as his own his whole life. 

Jon’s hand fell away from her arm and she tore her eyes off of Gendry long enough to smile at her brother before she stepped forward into Gendry’s reach. 

“Lady Arya, do you take this man?” Davos asked and even without looking she knows he is smiling. 

“I take this man.” Arya declared before Davos was even finished speaking. Gendry let out a soft laugh at her impatience but she knows he feels the same. They had spent too much of their lives being separate from each other. It was past time that they were together. 

Gendry reached his hand out for her and Arya took it gladly, silently cursing their gloves for stopping her from getting to feel his skin against hers again. The only sound in the godswood was the snow crunching under their boots as Davos stepped aside so that Gendry and her could kneel before the weirwood to let the old gods witness their union. 

Arya bowed her head before the tree and thought of how her mother had wed her father in this very spot. She wondered if wherever they were now, they could see her. If they were cursing her for marrying a lowborn bastard or if they were simply happy that she had found love amongst all of the chaos of her life. She decided she was going to believe it was the latter. 

The snow fell lightly around them as Gendry stood, using the hand still holding Arya’s to help her raise to her feet. She didn’t need the help but she let him do it anyway. He rose her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her glove before letting go. Arya heard someone take in a shaking breath as Gendry stepped behind her to take the cloak off of her shoulders. Even though it bore no sigil of her house Arya could think of no better cloak to wear to symbolize her family as it left her back. She had no chance to feel the chill of the night around them for Gendry was quick to pass her cloak to Jon and remove his own from his shoulders. 

Like Arya, he had no fancy cloak to wear this night. The cloak he rested on her back bore no sigils, marked no houses. It was the drab brown wool cloak with the fur around the neck that he wore every day. As it settled around her shoulders Arya thought it was the finest cloak she had ever worn. 

The cloak was not quite as long as Robb’s had been but Arya still had to be careful to not let it tangle around her legs as she turned to face Gendry, his smile wider than she had ever seen it as she gripped his arms and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him lightly. 

Snow stuck to her eyelashes as they kissed and Arya could swear that the breeze whistling through the trees was the old gods sighing in contentment at their union. The silence was broken by Tormund cheering loudly and the Hound grumbled something about ‘enough with the fucking weddings’ under his breath. Ghost let out a bark of happiness as Gendry pulled away from her to rest his forehead against hers. 

They had won one war but they were by no means out of the woods yet. They still had an evil queen to defeat and a castle to rebuild, the entire North would have to reform once the losses from the last war were counted. 

Tonight though Arya let all thoughts of war and battles, of destruction and death, leave her mind. She knew that Gendry and her still had a lot left to face but she also knew that they would be facing it the same way that they would be facing the rest of their lives. 

Together.


End file.
